Chapter 6: Histories
A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.
~ Victor Hugo
"So you've spent a good deal of time in here, I take it," Alice said, looking about the library and its walls and gallery lined with books.
"I have read probably everything here that is not dry and deadly dull, which is perhaps half of what this room contains," Casiphia said from her position atop a tall wooden ladder. "I'm certain I've spent more hours here than any of the other courtiers have, although I will admit a few of those were spent gossiping with Rosalba rather than reading."
"I knew there must be a good reason why Mirana sent me with you to find the history books," Alice said.
"If you want to know about Underland, everything you could want should be here," Casiphia said. "This is the official library of Underland, in fact. Iracebeth wasn't interested in books, so she did not take any of them with her to Saluzen Grum, and we've been able to keep them safe and dry and in beautiful shape here, with a bit of help from Mirana's potion-making.
"And here we are," she continued, pulling down several volumes bound in green leather. "A trifle dusty, but nothing unbearable. These should occupy you for some time, depending on how deeply you want to delve into our history."
Luckily she was facing towards the door, so she was in no danger of being startled and toppling off the ladder when Ilosovic suddenly came into the room.
"You look positively pre-Raphaelite, milady."
"Oh? Ah, yes, the dress," she said from above, looking down at the heavy white brocade gown she had put on that morning, with its long tight sleeves and wide neckline.
"Also the hair," Alice put in.
Casiphia was wearing it uncharacteristically down, with only the sides pulled back and held with a decorative clasp in the back. "Oh, the hair," she sighed. "I didn't feel like wrestling with it today. I must spend half of every morning just trying to get out of its way."
"Which makes it all the lovelier when we do get to see it like this," Stayne said, offering her his hand to help her down the ladder.
"Compliments from one's love are prized," Casiphia said to Alice. "Make certain that you receive your share."
"I do," Alice said, dipping her head shyly.
"Good for you," Casiphia said, smiling as Alice took her armful of books and ducked out of the room to avoid further conversation along those lines.
"Easy to see where that is going, isn't it?" Casiphia said. "I wonder how long it will be till there's a wedding here."
"Wedding," Ilosovic mused. "I wonder..."
"If we are already considered married?" Casiphia finished his thought. "I don't know, it's not something I'd given much thought to in the past, although the thought might possibly have crossed my own mind recently." She pulled a book down from a high shelf, brushed off some dust, and flicked through the pages till she found the information she sought.
"As it turns out," she said, "we are approximately a week away from being common law husband and wife."
"Do you," he paused. "I mean, is this..."
"I am delighted to be your common law wife," she smiled, "And I need no more than that."
"You won't miss the ceremony? The gown?"
Casiphia had to laugh at the last. "Look at what I'm wearing. My position has no lack of beautiful gowns, or for that matter, ceremony."
"I ought at least to have given you an engagement present."
Casiphia's hand went to the silver raven pendant she wore regularly, the one that had belonged to Stayne in his boyhood, which he had given her during a visit to the vacant Red Castle after Iracebeth was deposed. "I believe you did, whether or not we realized it at the time."
She resumed her perusal of the books in front of her, looking for additional volumes of history, while Ilosovic stood behind her, arms around her waist, a smile playing about the corners of his lips.
That night Ilosovic found Casiphia soaking contentedly in the deep black-marble bathtub she enjoyed so much, submerged to her neck in hot scented water and holding a novel just above the water.
"I came to see if you needed someone to wash your hair for you," he said.
"Oh, by all means," Casiphia said, setting the book aside and relaxing back into his hands as he removed her hairpins one by one and began wetting her locks. "You should sing to me while you do that," she suggested.
"No, no, you do not want me to do that," he said with a hint of a chuckle.
"Oh?" Casiphia said, dropping her head back and regarding him upside down. "You mean I have found something the great Ilosovic Stayne cannot do?"
"I do not sing, I do not swim, I had to give up archery—"
"Archery? Why?" she said, swiveling around to look at him straight on.
Ilosovic tapped his eyepatch, and Casiphia looked away, abashed. "Oh—I'm sorry."
"I'm going to take it as a compliment that you thought I could still shoot. But while I was a good enough swordsman that losing an eye didn't hurt my performance in any way that I couldn't compensate for, I wasn't a good enough archer to make up for the lack of dimension."
"Probably that will never come up again anyway," Casiphia said, the only reassurance she could think of quickly.
"Perhaps," Stayne shrugged. "But to continue on with things I cannot do, I have never been a good chess player, despite what you might think, because I've never had the patience to wait for my opponent to decide upon a move."
"My father will be disappointed," Casiphia said, settling back into the warm water of her bath. "I know he was sorry not to find an opponent in me, but I have the same problem with the game as you."
"Utterly astonishing," said Ilosovic with gravity, at which Casiphia flung a handful of water at him that he didn't quite dodge.
"You'd probably have more success with my hair if you joined me, anyway," she noted. Unable to argue the point, he shed his clothes, slid into the tub as gently as he could so as not to sluice too much water over the edge, and resumed the task of washing his lady love's wavy brown hair.
When she reached for a towel to mop up the puddles on the floor, he stayed her hand. "What are you doing?" he asked her.
"Cleaning up, of course. How rude to leave this for someone else to do."
Ilosovic shook his head. "My dear, this is why there are servants. No, no—" he cut short her protest. "I know you dress yourself unless you're preparing for a formal court event, you lacquer your own nails, which must be unheard of among ladies-in-waiting ("I prefer the way I do it," Casiphia said faintly), and don't think I haven't watched you taking our trays back to the kitchen. Sweetheart, there are people who make their living doing these things for you. There is nothing wrong with allowing them to do so."
"Still, it seems discourteous. And what about damage to the floor?"
"No permanent harm will come from leaving water to sit on a marble floor overnight."
She had to admit that was probably correct, although she still dabbed up a few spots of water before he could take the towel away from her.
"I learned from my mother," she explained. "She was just a girl from the village herself when she met my father and came to live at the castle, before she became a lady-in-waiting.
She never did get used to the idea someone doing her chores for her."
"She is a very thoughtful woman, then. But that doesn't mean there aren't times when it is appropriate to let someone do things for you. That should be one of the advantages to being a lady-in-waiting, after all."
Casiphia conceded that this made sense.
"Speaking of your father, I must admit, I am still surprised that he accepted me so readily," he said after a bit.
"Well, think of it, after Oran turned up at his door with a plot that could potentially kill his daughter, you would have had to do something particularly reprehensible while you were a guest in their home for him not to bend towards your side. Plus he's always prided himself on being a bit contrary, so you have that in your favor as well."
"Like father, like—" he began, but stopped when Casiphia gave him a stern look over her shoulder.
"And now I do not want to talk about Oran any more," she said firmly. "Not at all now, maybe not ever again. His name has come up more times over the past few days than it has in months, and I am most heartily tired of reliving the past."
"This I understand completely," Ilosovic said, rubbing the back of her neck with both his thumbs, which reduced her to silence for a few moments.
Afterwards, when he had her wrapped in a large soft towel and had another around his waist, he suggested, "Why do we not adjourn to bed?"
"Because now I have wet hair, dear, and that would be pleasant for neither of us. However, if you wanted to keep me occupied while my hair dries, I would not complain. You could read to me, or sing—"
The next sound from her mouth was a shriek as he tumbled her onto the bath rug and tore away the towel. And then wet hair was of minimal significance as they embraced each other next to the tub of cooling water, and puddles of even less.